Secure
by Schm0use
Summary: It stands to reason that during a zombie apocalypse, there are certain necessities. NxE if you're looking.


So today in class I had to write a monologue in twenty minutes. I panicked and ended up writing one from Nick's POV, and ended up actually LIKING it, and then I DIDN'T GET TO SHARE IT TT____TT ...so I turned it into a fic. The italicized parts at the beginning are the monologue, but I made them third person. So yeah. GOOD TO BE POSTING AGAIN 8D

Secure

_Lights. That was what he remembered; he was nineteen, but he could pass for twenty-one, and the casino was lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. All of Vegas had been like that, the lights and the sound, and it got inside his head until he forgot about his old, crappy life and all he could remember was the new one. And he had wanted to live it. He was good at that life._

"Dead!" Nick called out, dropping a Spitter where she stood with a well-placed bullet between the eyes from his sniper rifle.

"Nice _shot_!" Coach said approvingly. Nick grinned. He was easily the best gunman out of the four of them, although Ellis came close when he was trying. Most of the time the mechanic preferred to spray volleys of bullets into the onrushing hordes, laughing like a maniac and bringing his chainsaw out when things got too close for comfort.

He looked up at the darkening sky. "We should find somewhere to stay for the night."

Rochelle pointed at a nearby house with her axe. "That one looks good to me." She said wearily. "I'm almost asleep on my feet."

"I'll carry you, Ro-girl!" Ellis said brightly, and she laughed.

They trekked up the front steps to the house, and Coach pushed the door open cautiously, making as little noise as possible. They crept inside, guns up, scanning each room for Infected. Any found were disposed of quickly. Then they went for the food—old boxes of stale cereal, canned pasta, even half a loaf of bread that Ellis insisted would be fine once they tore off the moldy parts. Coach came back from the bathroom, shaking his head in a disgruntled fashion.

"Some fool shot up the bathroom." He sighed. "No shower tonight, kids."

"Oh, well," Rochelle shrugged, accepting the piece of bread Ellis passed to her suspiciously, and nibbling on it, "There's always next time."

When even the lone female of the group was starting to not care about showers, it had to be bad. Nick shrugged off his gore-caked suit jacket in an attempt to feel a little cleaner.

It was Ellis who said, "I wonder… when'd we get used to livin' like this?"

"Like what?" Rochelle asked, mouth quirking. "Like a bunch of refugees?"

"Naw." Ellis shook his head. "I mean like pigs."

There was a pause while they all stared at each other, vaguely grossed out, before Nick started laughing his raspy smoker's laugh. Rochelle joined him, Coach smiled, and Ellis said,

"What? It's _true_!"

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "It is."

"Well, I mean, we either deal with it or… you know, die." Rochelle said, looking a little depressed at the reality of the situation.

"Ain't all that bad." Ellis said, reconsidering. "I never really liked showerin' all that much anyway."

"Thanks for that, Ellis." Nick said dryly. "Doesn't matter though, does it? I barely remember what life was like before I met you people." He sighed wistfully. "Ah, for the good old days."

Rochelle threw a discarded piece of decaying bread at him, hitting him square in the face.

"See, _this is why_—" Nick griped, searching for a clean spot on his sleeve to wipe the mold residue off with, "This is why I miss being alone."

"No, you don't." Rochelle said smugly.

Nick glared at her. A week ago he would have lied and told her she was wrong. Now he just rolled his eyes.

***

_The life of a conman had been predictable, at least to him, and he liked being able to tell what was coming next. He could read people and situations as easy as the cards—that hadn't ended well, sometimes. People didn't like being beaten. Especially if they found out he was cheating. That had always been his biggest mistake—assuming he was so much smarter than everyone else, and he_ was_; but still, there were times when someone was just smart enough._

"I worry about them." Coach said to Nick one morning as they made their way through the deserted streets towards the next EVAC. Always walking, but they never seemed to reach salvation.

Nick glanced at him questioningly. The older man's gaze was fixed in front of them, at Rochelle and Ellis, who were scouting ahead. "What, them?"

Coach nodded.

"Why?" Nick asked, perplexed. "You've been around them long enough to know they can handle themselves."

"I know." Coach sighed. "But they're young. I don't like to think about how this is affecting them, all this killing and bloodshed."

"They know what they have to do." Nick said. "And speaking of which, how're you holding up? You're not that different from the two of them."

Coach shrugged. "Neither are you."

"Yeah. Right." Nick snorted.

Coach gave him a look. "I worry about you too, sometimes."

Nick didn't answer. He focused his eyes in the distance, watching as Ellis pressed his nose up against the window of a car, motioning for Rochelle to join him animatedly. She wandered over and he pointed inside, turning to grin at her. She made a face, said something to him, and he stood back to let her smash the window of the car with her axe. The kid leaned in carefully and pulled out a glimmering katana—Nick could practically see his eyes shining from all the way back where he stood.

"Why the hell is there a katana in that car?" He wondered.

"Promise me something, Nicky."

The rare use of his nickname brought him around, and he glanced over at Coach to show he was listening; but the bigger man wasn't looking at him. He was still staring ahead.

"If something happens to me… if I don't make it… will you stay with them?" Coach asked, turning to catch his eye. Nick stopped walking. "You're the oldest after me. Will you take care of them?"

They stared at each other, Coach's eyes soft and serious; and Nick had never felt more indebted to anyone in his life.

"Sure, Coach." He said, nodding slowly. "Yeah."

Coach exhaled. "You're a good man. You might not think you are. But I know it."

"Hey!" A voice trailed back to them, and they both turned to see Ellis waving at them, ninja sword grasped firmly in one hand. "Come on, we don't got all day!"

"Young'un's right." Coach said, and they started walking again. Neither of them said anything for a while. Nick broke the silence.

"Hey, Coach."

"Yeah?"

"We worry about you, too."

Coach smiled, still watching after the younger half of their group protectively. "Thanks, Nick."

***

_He still remembered the first time he ran into someone like that. He remembered the blood and the bruises and how fucking proud he was of them, because for the first time, he'd done something to deserve them. He hadn't been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time when his father was angry, he hadn't fallen down and scraped his knee. Like everything else in that life, the money, the respect, the good shit and the bad, he'd earned them, those scars. And just like that, nothing could hold him anymore._

"You shut your damn mouth!" Ellis shouted. "Just _shut up_!"

"No, you _listen to me_." Nick hissed. "We are all going to die if we stay here. So either I walk, or we all do, _do you understand_?"

"We can't leave her." Ellis said, choking back hysteria. "We can't, oh God—"

"I'm not asking you to." Nick said, matter-of-fact. "I gave you your options."

Rochelle had nearly been strangled to death by Smoker earlier. She had already been woozy and out of it since a Tank rampage had gone wrong the day before. She'd gotten yanked away, disappeared, in the middle of a horde rush, and none of them had realized until it was almost too late. Nick had been standing right next to her. He still couldn't figure out how it could have happened.

They had made it to New Orleans, the four of them. After the attack, they'd holed up in a tiny house, willing the last member of their group to open her eyes. She hadn't stirred, shallow, fleeting breaths their only indication that she was still alive. It was going on sixteen hours. Nick had finally suggested to the other two that they might need to move on. Ellis hadn't taken to the idea well.

They had moved into another room to have what was supposed to have been a whispered discussion. Coach had stayed with Rochelle.

"She'll wake up." Ellis pleaded. "She will."

"We've been hiding here for a day!" Nick said. "They will close the EVAC, don't you get that? They don't give a damn who's still out here or not, they will _leave _our asses!"

"THEN LET THEM!" Ellis yelled. "How can you even think about leavin' her, now, after everything we've been through? It's that easy to just walk out on us?!"

The accusations pissed him off, the assumptions almost as much. Who did Ellis think he was? _What _did he think the rest of them meant to Nick, exactly?

"Why wouldn't it be?" Nick asked coldly.

"You sonuvabitch." Ellis said quietly, voice shaking with fury, and something else Nick couldn't quite place. "You son of a _bitch_!"

He tackled Nick.

Nick, caught completely off guard, went down hard on the wooden floors of the house, and then Ellis was on top of him, raining blows down on him, on his face, his arms, his chest, everywhere he could reach.

He got his wits about him, balled his fists, and let loose with a punch that landed on Ellis's mouth, one of his rings splitting the boy's lower lip. Ellis howled and Nick heaved him off, shoving him away and scrambling backwards, staggering to his feet. He was bleeding, too, above his eye, and his ribs hurt. Amazing, how a dozen zombies couldn't take him down, and Ellis could flatten him in under thirty seconds.

Then again, he wasn't planning on shooting Ellis.

"I fucking hate you!" Ellis raged at him.

"Why does it matter to you?!" Nick yelled back, feeling angry, embarrassed, that the kid had managed to get the better of him, enraged at Rochelle for getting herself so badly hurt when they were _so close_, mad at Coach for just sitting there by her bedside, not saying anything, just _looking at him _when he'd suggested they'd leave.

Utterly and completely infuriated at himself for even thinking it.

"I'm only saying what makes sense." He gasped out, and everything was too much, what was he _supposed_ to say? They could _all_ die here… or they could let one of their own die in their place.

"No, you ain't." Ellis said, bluntly. "Just like it wouldn't make any lick of sense for us to leave Coach, or for you all to leave me, or for us to leave _you_, Nick, 'cuz we never would. Not ever."

"I give you permission to leave me to die, if it means you get out." Nick told him.

"Fuck you." Ellis spat. "Don't try to make yourself feel better 'bout what you said. 'Cuz you know damn well we wouldn't do that."

Nick swiped the back of his hand over his forehead, smearing blood everywhere. He stared at his reddened skin.

"I know." He said. "I know you wouldn't."

"I know you just said it 'cuz you thought it's what you needed to say, or what you're expected to say—" Ellis swiped at his eyes, "But you didn't mean it." When Nick didn't reply, he said, "We need you, Nick."

And it was with a total absence of any overconfidence or arrogance that Nick said, "I know."

They needed each other.

"Ellis, do me a favor." Nick asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Hit me again."

Ellis stared at him, and then walked to stand in front of him. Nick rolled his neck, preparing himself.

_BAM._

Ellis punched him square in the face, and he staggered back, almost losing his balance, but then the younger man reached forward and grabbed his arms, pulling him forward into a bear hug. Nick bled all over his shirt, and let himself be embraced, finally wrapping one arm around Ellis's shoulders.

"We're gonna get there together, or we ain't gonna get there at all." Ellis muttered.

"Seems that way." Nick agreed.

He didn't pull away until Ellis loosened his grip.

The door at the end of the hallway cracked open.

"You two done?" Coach's voice rumbled toward them.

"Just about." Ellis nodded.

"Good." Coach said. "'Cuz she just woke up. And she says the two of you are loud as shit."

Nick and Ellis glanced at each other.

"We should go apologize." Ellis said.

They headed down the hallway to the other room.

"Nick, what the hell happened to your face?" Coach asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Ellis happened to my face." Nick said by way of explanation, pushing past the older man into the room. Rochelle struggled to sit up, caught sight of his face, and stared. "Hey, sweetheart, how you feeling?"

Ellis sat on the edge of her bed, fussing, and Coach made him get away only to fuss himself, and Rochelle rolled her eyes and told them both to shut up, and Nick reminded them all pessimistically that they needed to keep moving.

"Thanks for not leaving me." Rochelle said, quietly.

And Nick looked at her, and around at Ellis and Coach, and replied, "Wouldn't dream of it."

And just like that, he had found himself anchored again.

***


End file.
